Tethers
His friends threw a celebration party that night. Marlene, Dorcas, Lily, Mary, Sirius, James, and Peter all crammed themselves into Remus’ tiny apartment, bringing with them hauls of alcohol, take out, and enough noise he was sure he’d get a complaint from a neighbor.
The only person missing was Regulus, who had gotten roped into some sort of antics with Barty and the Rosier twins, and had left well before anyone arrived.
He had been the first person Remus told the news to, having burst back into the apartment wildly like he’d outrun a bull.
“What the fuck?” Regulus hissed from the living room, startled from his reading curled up in the lumpy armchair. “Has someone died?”
“I got in.” Remus announced breathlessly. “The MoMA. I got in!”
Regulus closed his book. Wordlessly, he walked into the kitchen and bypassed the step stool to clamber onto the countertop. He reached the high cabinet above the fridge and pulled down his most expensive bottle of wine—the one he threatened castration if Remus so much as touched it—and poured two healthily full glasses. He handed one to him and raised it.
“May the rest of the exhibition look like shit next to yours, Lupin.”
Remus grinned and tipped the glass to drink.
“If you chug that, I’ll make you swallow the glass.” Regulus added, correctly guessing exactly what he had been about to do. “Sip like a civilized person, won’t you?”
“Alright, alright…” Remus sipped, wondering what made this wine so worthy of death threats.
It just tasted like regular old fermented grape juice—not that he’d ever let Regulus know that.
“Mm,” he said instead. “tasty.”
Regulus rolled his eyes. “You’re hopeless.”
And that had been their quiet little celebration together. Remus didn’t need or want more than that, and his friend knew it.
But that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy the next and far louder celebration that evening. Someone ended up getting hold of their Bluetooth and was blasting Bowie while everyone shouted over it, shoving boxes of takeout onto the counters and passing out plates.
Remus had been assaulted by numerous hugs—Lily had almost sent them both tumbling onto the floor—screaming in his ear in celebration.
“I’m so proud of you, Remus!” She yelled, practically vibrating in his arms.
“Sorry about her!” Mary laughed. “We were a few drinks in when we heard the news!”
“It’s okay!” Remus shouted over the din. Sirius, James, and Peter were hollering about something with Marlene while Dorcas made a giant bowl of margarita mix. Marlene had brought it as a congratulations gift from Vince and Tony. Remus took one look at it and figured a least a few of them would be spending the night sleeping the alcohol off.
——
“My parents wouldn’t stop talking about you,” James told him once they’d settled down to eat and the music had been lowered. “your piece really impressed them.”
“I just hope it wasn’t because they knew me or the reason why I made it.” Remus murmured, voicing his one insecurity regarding his victory. “The piece isn’t going to be explained—there’s no artist statement. I hope it’s impact isn’t just because they know the story.”
“Trust me, if it’d one thing my parents are good at, it’s compartmentalization.” James snorted. “It’s part of their jobs. They befriend loads of artists they curate, and still have to judge the merits of their work without letting their friendships with them be a factor. They’ve been doing this for decades, mate. If they chose you, they did it because you’ve got talent worth being displayed.”
Remus nodded. He had no doubts in the Potters’ abilities to remain professional, but he also knew they saw him as something like another son. He was still family even after seven years apart. That connection was different than a friendship with an artist.
“Are you nervous?” Sirius asked, sidling into the conversation after apparently losing interest in whatever the others were talking about. “About the gala?”
“Yeah.” Remus said truthfully. “I have no idea what those sort of events are about. I’ve never been to one, let alone as an artist in the exhibition. I’m walking in blind here.”
“Well, the MoMA ones are pretty high end.” James nodded. “I’ve been to loads with the parents. White tie level stuff.”
Something twisted in Remus’ stomach. White tie? He could barely afford to buy new pants at a thrift store, let alone something that expensive.
“Um…”
“White tie?” Lily was suddenly there, plopping down onto the couch between Remus and James. “The event is white tie?”
He knew that look. Even in her tipsy state, there was a feral glint in her eye that shone whenever fashion was mentioned.
“Lily—“
“Please, please, please let me style for you.” She begged, shaking his arm. “I’ve been dying to get a client, and it’s the MoMA! Remus pleeeeeeease—“
“I can’t pay for a stylist, Lils.” Remus sighed.
“You know I wouldn’t ask for anything—“
“I mean the clothes.” He clarified. “White tie. That’s designer stuff, right? I can’t just rent a two buck tux. I can’t afford to buy anything for you to style—“
“If you let me design the jewelry and the shoes, I’ll pay.” Sirius cut in, leaning across Remus to look at Lily.
“What—“ Remus began, but Lily sat up so fast she nearly dislodged James’ plate from his lap.
“I do the shoes, but you get makeup.”
“Guys—“
Sirius clapped a hand over Remus’ mouth and rose to Lily’s challenge.
“Makeup and hair.” He bargained. “All three. You get the rest.”
Remus wrenched Sirius’ hand from his face.
“I don’t want you to spend all your money for one night, Sirius—“
“Oh please,” he scoffed. “all that money’s really my parents’, and I’d love nothing more than piss them off by spending it. Don’t think of it as me doing something for you, Moons. Think of it as letting me gives my bigoted parents what they deserve.”
“Jewelry, hair and makeup is yours, but everything else is mine.” Lily continued as if Remus wasn’t even there. Sirius stuck his hand out.
“You’ve got yourself a deal, Evans.” And they shook hands right there with Remus between them, helplessly torn between amused, grateful and guilty.
Sirius immediately turned to Dorcas after the pact was made.
“You wouldn’t be available for commissions, would you?”
Dorcas’ eyes lit up.
For the next two hours, Sirius, Dorcas, and Lily were locked in deep discussions about Remus’ outfit for the gala while he, James, Peter, Mary, and Marlene watched Call Me By Your Name on James’ laptop. The Bluetooth had been turned off as the night wore down. They drained the margarita mix and had cracked open a six pack of Twisted Teas, and were drunkenly running commentary on the movie.
“I mean, c’mon,” James slurred, waving his bottle at the screen. “Elio is just…just so pretty. How can Oliver do that t’him?”
“S’ the eighties.” Marlene said sagely, like it was the answer to the universe. She was slumped too low on the couch, nursing a glass of wine.
“He was mean t’Marzia though.” Peter mumbled, squinting at the screen. “Havin’ sex then brushing ‘er off. Rude.”
“Is that all he was?” Remus asked woozily. “Pretty and mean?”
James sighed dreamily, staring into space. “I like pretty and mean.”
“What?” Mary giggled. “What’re y’talking about, James?”
“Pretty and mean.” James insisted. “It’s important. They’ve gotta be pretty and mean for me. He’s so pretty and mean.”
“Elio?”
James frowned, like he didn’t remember who Elio was.
“Nah. My piano boy. He’s so pretty, Moony. Like this…this perfectly made…person. He’s got eyes and a mouth an’ everything.”
Remus, Peter, Mary, and Marlene were all trying to hold in their laughter.
“Eyes and mouth, huh?” Peter chortled. “No nose?”
“Got a nose too. Cute nose.”
“Must not have ears then.” Mary giggled.
“‘Says I talk ‘em off.” James sighed dreamily again. “He’s so mean to me. I love it.”
“Is he talking about that rude piano boy again?” Sirius asked from where he, Dorcas, and Lily were on the floor.
“Potter has a degradation kink!” Marlene hollered, raising her glass. “Cheers!”
Peter, Mary, and Remus all drunkenly toasted to James, who just grinned.
“For ‘im, I do.” He slurred. “He could glare at me and I’d get randy.”
“Oh-ho-ho-kay, mate.” Sirius gently pried the Twisted Tea from him. “That’s plenty for you. Water time.”
“Why aren’t y’drunk with me, Padfoot?” James whined. “You’re mothering me fer’once. Usually the other way ‘round.”
“I have a very important client to impress.” Sirius said, winking at Remus. He felt his cheeks grow hot.
“We’re meant to be celebrating. Work tomorrow…”
Before Sirius could answer, however, there was a loud knock at the door. Mary reached over with her foot and kicked the laptop closed. Everyone stared at the door, hoping whoever it was would just leave. They’d been quiet enough that Remus couldn’t imagine it was a neighbor coming to complain about the noise—they would’ve done it hours ago when they were louder.
The knock came again, more insistent than before.
“I got it.” Remus grunted, peeling himself from the couch. He was tipsy but aware. Solicitors didn’t come by much in their building, but the usual danger of strangers in New York was enough to shake him from the worst of the alcohol.
He pulled open the door to politely tell whoever it was that he wasn’t interested in what they were selling, when he recognized who stood on the other side.
“Remus,” Lyall said in lieu of a greeting. Everything froze. Their towering heights were equal to each other, but for a moment Remus felt like he was shrinking, a child under his father’s piercing gaze.
“We need to talk.”
Remus struggled for a moment, fighting against something tight building up in his chest.
“No.” He managed.
“Remus—“
“There’s nothing I want to talk to you about.” He snapped.
“Well, there’s plenty I want to talk to you about.” Lyall insisted, putting a hand on the door to prevent him from closing it. “You need to understand why I did what I did—“
“I know why.” Remus hissed, trying to keep his voice low so his friends couldn’t hear. “You’ve never liked my friends. So you chose to isolate me from the only people who actually gave a shit about me. You isolated me so I had to depend on you. So I couldn’t leave you.”
“I did it to protect you.” Lyall said loudly, his voice tight and fierce. “You never saw what you looked like after they found you. Fenrir Greyback nearly dismembered you. You don’t remember what you looked like. I do. I was the first one to find you. I was in the ambulance with you. You were broken, Remus. Those boys wouldn’t have known how to treat you. They were careless and reckless, always getting you into trouble. They would’ve made you worse—pushed you into doing things you were ready for. Hadn’t healed enough for.”
“There is nothing you can say that can make your lies reasonable.” Remus seethed. “You could’ve told them to wait until I healed. Until I was able to stand and walk and do things on my own. You could’ve told me that, and at least I would’ve known. But you didn’t. You chose to isolate me. You chased my friends off, you changed my phone number without telling me, you made me feel like I was a freak that scared my friends away. I can’t forgive that. I won’t.”
“You can’t trust those boys.” Lyall snapped. “They’re unreliable and reckless—“
“But I can trust you?” Remus shouted. “After everything you did?”
“You are my son! I lost your mother, I almost lost you! I did what I had to to keep you safe!”
“Don’t you dare talk about her.” He snarled coldly. “You did what you had to to keep me under your control. If she knew what you’d done, you would’ve lost her anyway.”
Lyall suddenly surged forward, stepping through the threshold with his fist raised.
Remus had known of his father’s temper his entire life, but he had never, ever resorted to violence. The moment he moved, the moment he realized his fingers were curling into fists, suddenly it wasn’t Lyall Lupin standing in the doorway anymore. It was Fenrir Greyback. His father’s fury turned into that maniacal grin and senseless cruelty that invaded Remus’ nights.
He was suddenly smelling wet leaves and sharp forest air, suddenly cold like he was naked in the woods again.
And Remus froze. He watched the fist draw back, felt his father shoving the door open. And he couldn’t move. Caught between reality and history. His father was going to punch him in the face, maybe split open his skin like Greyback had done. And all Remus could see what that man’s greasy hair, all he could smell was his terrible breath. Any moment he would feel the cruel knife slicing him apart.
But it never came. Lyall was suddenly thrown up against the wall in the hallway, four bodies wrestling him to the ground. Someone was grabbing Remus with gentle hands, guiding him into his room while other voices shouted and screamed.
Remus was too far gone, stuck in fight or flight. His lungs were gasping for air. His ears were ringing, he didn’t understand why he wasn’t feeling pain yet, why the forest floor felt plush and warm, sinking comfortably under his weight.
He vaguely heard Dorcas’ voice nearby, talking urgently on the phone.
“Police…assault…three minutes—“
There were thuds and yells, strings of swears.
“Stay the fuck down!”
“You motherfucking piece of shit—!”
“Get the hell off me!”
“If you ever come back here, I’ll fucking kill you!”
“You fucking bastard! You’d do exactly what that motherfucker did to your son! You sick fucking hypocrite! You’re a goddamn hypocrite! I’ll fucking kill you!”
The voices were furious and muffled by the distance.
“Sirius—Sirius!”
The voice that had been the loudest, that had been roaring over all the noise, stopped at the call. Remus couldn’t hear what was said next, the world was changing again, and he was floating farther away.
He heard the vague sound of footsteps, the felt the vibration of someone bursting into his room.
“Moony…Moony! Remus!”
Sirius’ voice was distant and far away, but it was out of place. Sirius hadn’t been in the forest that night. Warm hands cupped his face, startling against the cold he was feeling.
“It’s okay, he can’t get you. You’re still here, Remus. You’re still here. Can you feel my hands? They’re right here.”
Warm fingers were brushing against his skin, under his eyes. He could feel the pressure of them against his scars, in the places were full sensation had never returned. Remus focused on them, obeying Sirius’ voice without question.
Sirius was safe. Remus had always known that, even when he thought he wasn’t. Somewhere deep in his bones, he’d always known Sirius was safe.
The cold was going away, soaked in by the warmth of his hands. Every brush, every tingle of skin against his was like a wave coming to shore, beckoning him back to solid ground.
Remus’ vision focused, and he blearily started recognizing the shape and smell of his room. There was still noise coming from beyond, but all he could hear was Sirius’ voice, washing over him gently. His eyes, startling bright in the darkness of the space, pulled him back to the present.
His lungs was burning, begging for air, and he started taking little sips of oxygen. Shaky and shallow, he heaved for more, desperately trying to suck in the air between them, looking for salvation.
“You’re here. Right here with me, remember? You can fly anywhere and I’ll be right here to pull you back.”
Remus slumped into his hands, resting against their solid hold. He felt Sirius shift, felt his heart clench with anxiety, but he was just standing up, letting Remus rest his head on his stomach, guiding his arms to wrap around his waist.
Grateful, he slumped into him further, clinging to him, his intoxicating scent inviting him to take deeper breaths.
He could hear the sound of cops arriving, of more shouting as Lyall tried to shift blame. He could feel his body tensing up again, but Sirius’ hands gently covered his ears.
“Don’t listen to them, Moony.” He whispered. “Just be here.”
Remus obeyed, and allowed himself to be cocooned by his presence. The world faded away around him, but this time, it was Sirius that took over, not the past. He could feel his fingers in his hair, gently moving as his palms protected his ears. Sirius talking in a low murmur, talking about nothing, only make other noise for Remus to tune into.
His back hurt from hunching over, and his head ached to lay on a pillow.
He tugged at him, not knowing how to ask. Sirius followed, allowing him to be pulled onto the bed. Remus kept his face hidden in the soft fabric of his shirt, still clinging to his waist, but they were horizontal now, which was much better.
Sirius pulled him impossibly closer, still talking quietly, now fully running his fingers through his hair. It felt nice, rhythmic and slow, lulling Remus into rest.
He didn’t know how much time passed. But some time later, he heard his door opening, and was roused by growing light and soft questioning of another voice.
“He’s okay.” He heard Sirius whisper. “Is Lyall—?”
“Cops took him.”
“No one’s in trouble?”
“Marlene’s got a black eye, but Dorcas’ looking after her. Pete’s jammed a finger and Lily’s complaining that her boot got scuffed by Lyall’s belt buckle.”
“You?”
“Fine. You?”
“Better now. Get some sleep, Prongs.”
“Right.”
The door closed and the light faded.
“Go back to sleep, Moony.” Sirius murmured. Remus tightened his grip. “I won’t go anywhere.”
He could hear the smile in his voice.